What in Blue Blazes . . . happened to my ancestor’s record?
Family Tree Magazine (May/June 2018) called them “Holes in History” – destructive fires throughout United States history with far-reaching effects on modern-day genealogical research. It might have been the deed to your third great-grandfather’s land in Mississippi, your grandfather’s World War II service record, or the missing 1890 census records. This excerpted article published in the January-February 2020 issue of Digging History Magazine takes a look at the stories behind these devastating events and how to find substitute records.
ABOUT THOSE COURTHOUSE FIRES . . .
Here’s something we can all agree on: nineteenth and early twentieth century courthouse fires are the bane of genealogists everywhere. Have you ever wondered why so many courthouse fires occurred in the latter half of the nineteenth century? Would it surprise you to find that many of them were set nefariously?
The Big Cover-Up
On October 15, 1891 this Kalamazoo Gazette headline screamed:
It was one of the town’s “most exciting and sensational scenes in its history” and Washington, Indiana detectives were investigating the recent courthouse fire. After arresting four persons allegedly associated with the “incendiarism”, one suspect, Samuel Harbine, confessed and implicated others. Among those implicated was none other than Daviess County’s auditor, James C. Lavelle. Lavellle’s brother Michael and two prominent county residents were also implicated.
Harbine admitted auditor Lavelle had hired him to burn the courthouse for a sum of $500, although to date only $5 had been received. As the story unfolded, another accomplice, Basil Ledgerwood, was anxious to turn state’s evidence in exchange for admitting his remuneration was a house and lot. Lavelle had been the county auditor for almost eight years and had earned
the trust of county residents. With evidence mounting against him, the county was forced to hire experts to review his accounts (presumably, those which hadn’t been destroyed).
The entire episode had turned the town upside down – almost suspending regular business – as everyone was “discussing the arrest of the conspirators” who had used coal oil to fuel the fire’s destruction which “affected the titles of nearly every landowner in Daviess county.” Understandably, “threats of mob violence [were] freely made.”1
Justice Delayed?
If a trial was in session and a courthouse fire mysteriously occurred in the middle of the night, chances are someone was trying to destroy evidence to prevent justice from being carried out. Sometimes fires were set to carry out vigilante justice.
In 1930 a lynch mob killed George Hughes, a Negro man accused of attacking a white woman in Sherman (Grayson County), Texas. Hughes was then locked in a vault in the courthouse basement as attempts at mob violence were averted, the third attempt thwarted by Texas Rangers and local law enforcement after plans to use dynamite were uncovered. Undeterred,
the mob resisted and set the courthouse on fire. So many fires, so many tragic stories.
Of course, those irretrievable records aren’t just a source of headaches and disappointment for genealogists today. At the time of these unfortunate incidents, hundreds of court cases and various legal actions were left hanging or unresolved in both the near and longer-term due to destruction of records by fire or other disaster.
If you’re researching Civil War ancestors, you may have come across the term “burned counties”, often used in regards to Virginia research after many records were either destroyed during the Civil War or by courthouse fire. There are strategies for finding those records and the rest of this excerpted article provides some tips.
For more discussion on this issue and to read the entire article, complete with more examples and resources, purchase the issue here. FYI, this particular issue features a look back at all the United States censuses dating back from 1790-1940.
Thanks for stopping by! For more stories like this one, consider subscribing to Digging History Magazine. Purchasing a subscription entitles you to subscriber benefits (20% off all services, including custom-designed family history charts) AND a chance to win your very own custom-designed family history chart! Details here (or click the ad below).
Footnotes:
Crazy in Colorado: Wheels in Their Head
Here’s an excerpt from a “Mining Genealogical Gold” article in a Digging History Magazine issue featuring Colorado. The article in its entirety was originally published in the May-June 2019 issue and entitled, “Crazy in Colorado: Wheels in Their Head and (Other) Insane Stories:
I came across some unique records several years ago while conducting research for a client. She wanted me to focus on an ancestor with a tragic story – she died at the Colorado State Insane Asylum in Pueblo in 1927. This institution has a long and storied history.
A series of small gold strikes precipitated the so-called Pike’s Peak Gold Rush as “Fifty-Niners” – Pike’s Peak or Bust! – flooded the region for three years before the rivers and streams played out. In 1879 silver was discovered high in the mountains at Leadville, founded in 1877 and known as “Cloud City” at an elevation well over 10,000 feet. On February 8, 1879 the Colorado State Legislature enacted legislation to establish the young state’s first public hospital for the insane.
At any given time during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries there were plenty of people deemed insane in Colorado. Many were confined to the state asylum in Pueblo, and if the asylum was full, in local jails. Local authorities, no doubt, preferred to shuffle their crazies off to the state facility in Pueblo.
Early asylum records indicate quite a few Leadville residents ended up in Pueblo for one reason or another. Was it the altitude? Was there something in the water (or the whiskey)? Was it the isolation of the miner toiling day in and day out, hoping for the next big strike, only to come up empty-handed again (and again)?
“Wheels in Their Heads”
That was the Rocky Mountain News headline on September 8, 1893 as one man after another was adjudged insane in a Denver court. Alfred B. Clark, standing trial for lunacy, appeared fully sensible as most – until someone brought up the subjects of electricity and religion. “Then he became wild.”
Another, John Gunnison, had been accused of killing another man and was now in constant fear of someone attempting to murder him. Albert Anderson’s “bump of locality” (a phrenological term) had been injured, so much so he believed himself to be somewhere near the Columbian exposition (being held in Chicago that year). Another had received a bump on his noggin and insane ever since.
Overcrowding at the Pueblo asylum was a constant problem. The same could be said for county hospitals often forced to take in the insane. In November 1896 the Rocky Mountain News was decrying the level of care for the county’s “wheely citizens”. After all, the county hospital had never been intended to house this unfortunate group of citizens numbering around thirty.
One reporter “took in the whole works” courtesy of a member of the medical staff. The insane population ranged from the “white-haired old lady who is simply ‘off’ at times, to the wild, destructive maniac in whose diseased brain is moulded only by a desire to kick, bite, glare and make a ‘large noise.’” The second floor was home to a “miscellaneous assortment of the daft, all women.” None were really much trouble at all, but someone had to keep an eye on them at all times.
In 1894 the county hospital had its hands full with one unfortunate inmate, Harry Noble Fairchild, a former Colorado Assistant Secretary of State. Again, the state facility was full. Fairchild put on quite a display at his hearing, as the room was filled with leading politicians of the city and state:
He was brought from the county hospital in charge of guards, his hands in muffs and his wild cries startling all who were in the building. So violent was the form of the mania that he was not permitted to take the stand, and it was with greatest difficulty that he was restrained from doing injury to the spectators. “Harry Noble Fairchild!” he screamed, “The first god of the earth.” . . . Amid the turmoil created by his cries, the people sat quietly, and no remark of the insane man, although many were witty and some grotesque, caused a smile on the face of anyone. . . In maudlin tones Fairchild fought again the battles of the war, which he entered as a boy. . . Again he was behind the walls of Andersonville, and lived over the days and months of anguish, hunger and cruelty [his name doesn’t appear in Andersonville prison records]. . . He never ceased speaking for an instant, and most of his remarks were addressed to the court. “Judge! Judge!” he yelled, addressing the court, “both your legs are off, and your heart’s been hanging out for some time.” Airships, canary birds, campaigns and other things and objects were hopelessly tangled in his brain. . . The doctors testified that the disorder was, under certain conditions, curable. The jurors saw the strange actions of the man, and these were far more convincing than the testimony of experts. They were absent only a few moments, and amid a hush Clerk Reitler read the verdict, that “Harry Noble Fairchild is so disordered in his mind as to be dangerous to himself and to others, and as to render him incapable of managing his own affairs.”
What became of Harry Fairchild is unknown. Perhaps he died in Pueblo. In 1992 skeletal remains of approximately 130 people were uncovered near the site of the original grounds, leading anthropologists to posit them buried there between 1879 and 1899. Inmates would have likely been buried in unmarked graves.
I first encountered this database while researching for a client who wanted to know more about her great-grandmother who had been committed to the Pueblo asylum in the early 1900s. Her condition appeared to have been related to uncontrolled epileptic seizures, once thought to have been caused by evil spirits.
Martha Lorena Rockwell married German immigrant Folkert (Frank) Bokelman in 1908 in Cass County, Nebraska. Lorena was the daughter of Abraham and Mary Ann Rockwell, one of their ten children, growing up on a farm near Weeping Water, Nebraska (Cass County). Lorena was 17 and Frank was 28. Six children later, Lorena filed for divorce in April of 1920. Sometime in 1920, records indicate Lorena also spent time in the Lincoln State Hospital.
Presumably, the divorce petition was dropped at some point because by 1922 Lorena had been committed to the Woodcroft Hospital in Pueblo, Colorado. According to the Wray Rattler, Wray County (Colorado) was footing the bill for her board and care.
Frank had moved his family to Sidney, Nebraska (although likely lived in Yuma, Colorado at some point it appears) and on June 18, 1922 signed papers committing Lorena to Woodcroft. She was also pregnant with yet another child. Colorado State Hospital notes indicate Lorena was admitted from Woodcroft on November 6, 1922 in the last stages of pregnancy. Her baby was born in Ward 4 soon afterwards.
On June 18, 1923 Frank arrived to take Lorena and the baby home to Sidney. He signed a release form, “contrary to the advice of the Superintendent”. Should his wife require more care she would be placed in a Nebraska facility. Although it’s unclear as to why Lorena went to the Colorado facility in the first place (being a native Nebraskan), she returned to Pueblo on August 24, 1923 because the Nebraska institute refused to care for her. Frank brought her home to Sidney and she ran away. Clearly, he could not care for her.
Even though Lorena was committed once again to the Pueblo hospital was she really insane? That may not have been the case, at least in the clinical sense. Hospital records point to her history of grand mal seizures. Newspaper accounts also bear out those facts, although not implicitly stated.
On February 21, 1914 the Omaha Daily Bee reported the following:
Mrs. Frank Bokelman was seriously scalded Tuesday. She fell while carrying a teakettle filled with hot water. The hot water scalded her body from the neck down.2
Three years later The Plattsmouth Journal reported another accident:
Mrs. Frank Bokelman was badly burned on the left arm and right hand Monday morning when she fell on the cook stove while preparing the morning meal.3
How frequent were the seizures? While in the Colorado State Hospital it was noted Lorena was well-oriented, clear and a good worker between seizures. Otherwise, when the seizures were active, she might seize three or four times a day (grand mal), followed by a respite of one or two weeks. Through the years her pregnancies appear to have increased the frequency and severity of the seizures. No wonder she was seeking a divorce!
Lorena Bokelman died on June 18, 1927 of tuberculosis with the contributing condition of “psychosis with epilepsy”. By this time her children had been placed in other homes, adopted by strangers. Shortly after Lorena’s death, Frank died as well, although exactly where or how is unclear. While researching Lorena and Frank Bokelman for a client and looking for records of the Pueblo hospital, I came across this somewhat obscure asylum database.
While I didn’t find anything specifically about Lorena Bokelman in the asylum database, glancing through this voluminous set of records revealed some fascinating information which would help me understand more about people who, like Lorena, had no other medical recourse than to be committed to an asylum. This particular database didn’t contain hospital records, but snippets compiled from census records and newspapers. Not surprisingly, the newspaper clippings provided the most enlightening information (yet another reason why newspaper research is essential to genealogy!). For more information regarding this unique database (link provided in the magazine article), see the link in the opening paragraph to purchase this issue.
Thanks for stopping by! For more stories like this one, consider subscribing to Digging History Magazine. Purchasing a subscription entitles you to subscriber benefits (20% off all services, including custom-designed family history charts) AND a chance to win your very own custom-designed family history chart! Details here (or click the ad below).
Thanks for stopping by! For more stories like this one, consider subscribing to Digging History Magazine. Purchasing a subscription entitles you to subscriber benefits (20% off all services, including custom-designed family history charts) AND a chance to win your very own custom-designed family history chart! Details here (or click the ad below).
Footnotes:
Legal, Nefarious and Quirky Name Changes: Tracking Down Ancestor Aliases
“a.k.a.”, although perhaps not as ubiquitous as “LOL” or “OMG” in our increasingly emoji and acronym-driven world, is commonly used today. While there exists more than one interpretation of the well-known acronym, the most common usage, “also known as”, is a legal one in terms of identifying either a legal or, in the case of one (or more) of our elusive ancestors, a nefarious name change.
As an adverb the term “alias” means “otherwise”, “also known as” or “also called”. As a noun the term might range in meaning for any number of reasons – “assumed name”, “nom de plume”, “pen name”, “nickname”, “stage name” and so on. By 1935 the acronym had become a common legal term. However, for years the term “alias” was more commonly used when noting someone might otherwise be known by another name.
Anyone who has spent time researching ancestors – especially the “disappearing” kind – has mulled over whether their kin had, for some reason or another, changed their name. Human nature being what it is, one of the first questions we often ask ourselves is “were they running from the law?”. Of course, that was sometimes the case, and finding them is exponentially more difficult because they obviously didn’t want to be found.
There are any number of reasons why someone might have changed their name, although not always via proper legal channels:
● Immigrants with difficult to spell or pronounce names
● Political reasons, such as immigrants dealing with prejudice and social isolation in wartime
● Running from the law, or leaving behind an otherwise unfortunate past
● Adoptee or foster child changing to surname of legal guardian
● Slaves changing their name to distance themselves from a painful past
● Victims of abuse
● Joining a religious order (monastery or convent)
● Celebrities, or other famous people, who change their otherwise common name
Probably the hardest to track down, of course, is the nefarious use of an alias (or aliases) involving a criminal act.
On the Lam
Obviously, there’s a reason the most difficult name change to trace is the felonious/nefarious kind since the individual likely wouldn’t have pursued any type of legal instrument. In the case of one client’s ancestor, he was born John Adam Boozer, the son of George Henry and Mary Jane (Wilson) Boozer, on April 24, 1852 in Newberry County, South Carolina. John appears to have been their first child and in 1860 and 1870 was enumerated in their household.
While family historians aren’t certain as to his whereabouts for the next five years, evidence suggests he was a drifter and may have been fleeing the law. I haven’t found any specific family story which points to the crime, but around the time he may have run into trouble with the law I found this news item in 1872:
John Boozer, alias Charley Mason, Watson and Wilson, and hailing from Newberry, suspected of horse-stealing, was arrested in White County, Ga., On the 29th ultimo, and committed to jail in Abbeville County.4
Horse-thieving was quite a serious crime at the time. If this is the same John Boozer as my client’s second great grandfather, it’s certainly possible he escaped from jail and headed west to begin a new life. By all accounts, John ended up in Clark County, Arkansas working for Hezekiah “Ki” Cash. In January 1874 he married Mary Amanda McCollum, Hezekiah’s seventeen year-old niece.
It’s entirely possible Mary Amanda was living with her uncle at the time, since her father, John Webster McCollum, died in 1862 while serving in the Confederate Army. Her mother, Alley Banks (Cash) McCollum, died after the 1870 census, perhaps around 1871.
Should the news clipping refer to my client’s ancestor John Boozer, he had already become adept at evading the law by utilizing various aliases. However, if this is one and the same person, he was not using an alias at the time of his marriage.
Exactly when it happened is unclear, but one fateful day John Adam Boozer took the name of John Adam Cash, packed his family off to Texas, never to be heard from again. It was the day his past caught up with him, compelling him to choose his mother-in-law’s maiden name as his new surname. As the family story goes:
They had been married a few short months when a stranger, presumed to be a lawman came to Caddo valley looking for a man who fit John Boozer’s description. John and Mary left the community one night, taking with them only what household items that could be loaded into a wagon. They left chickens, hogs, cattle, a garden and a crop in the field. No one in the family ever heard from them again. Some of the family members thought that John was a wanted man for some crime he had committed before moving into the community and that the man who came asking questions was a law officer.5
After the mid-1870s there are no more references to John Adam Boozer. However, there is an 1880 census record for John A. Cash, his wife Mary A. and their two children in Goliad County, Texas. According to the 1880 Non-Population Agricultural Schedule, John Cash owned 100 acres of land. As one researcher remarked, “not bad, for someone described as a ‘drifter’!”6
These theories seem plausible based on solid deduction of known facts and family lore passed down through the years. However, without these theories carefully pieced together, it would be difficult for anyone to have picked up on the reasons Ancestry.com shows John Boozer in South Carolina, while in 1880 he (known then as John A. Cash) is living prosperously in Goliad County, Texas.
I’m not a big fan of so-called “family lore” because I’ve often found it to be nowhere near the truth. Although I’m always up for the challenge, it’s difficult to prove when someone asks me to prove so-and-so, rumored to be related to them, is a direct ancestor. In the case of John Adam Boozer, without this particular piece of the puzzle (family lore) it would be difficult for a researcher to take John A. Cash any farther back than the 1880 census. The worst case scenario would involve a fruitless search for someone surnamed Cash born in South Carolina around 1851. It would have led a researcher straight down a rabbit hole of unsubstantiated (and wasteful) research.
In this case family lore is, I believe, correct even if some facts are assumed. The great thing about John Adam Boozer, a.k.a. John Adam Cash, is his birth family of Swiss heritage. Several books have been written about this family and its illustrious history. In fact, the original name was variously Booser, Busser or Buser, changed to Boozer upon arrival in South Carolina. Why the family used Boozer with a “z” has yet to be uncovered in my research, however.
Other than family stories, what might be alternative strategies to find an ancestor suspected of a felonious past? It might take awhile to track down anything at all useful, but newspaper research would be one avenue, especially if your ancestor was a known felon who often used aliases. In that case, record all the known aliases reported in newspaper accounts – and good luck!
This is an excerpt from an extensive article published in the March-April 2020 issue of Digging History Magazine. The remainder of the article provides a number of examples of aliases and name changes, some legal, some nefarious and some for one quirky reason or another. These may provide some inspiration for finding your difficult-to-locate ancestors. Purchase the issue here.
Thanks for stopping by! For more stories like this one, consider subscribing to Digging History Magazine. Purchasing a subscription entitles you to subscriber benefits (20% off all services, including custom-designed family history charts) AND a chance to win your very own custom-designed family history chart! Details here (or click the ad below). Questions? Contact me: [email protected].
Footnotes:
Sarah Connelly, I Feel Your Pain (Adventures in Research: War of 1812 Pension Records)
Here’s a look back at a 2019 article published in Digging History Magazine, a personal one, from an issue which featured the War of 1812:
I hadn’t looked at this particular line for some time, but after someone saw this particular surname on my family’s pedigree chart (with an interesting story of someone with the same surname) I decided to take another look. I suspect I set it aside some time ago because, at least circumstantially, it appeared I had the correct parents for my third great grandmother Mary Ann Connelly, yet I couldn’t locate absolute proof.
So, a little more digging was in order. Curiously, I had several hints for Mary Ann’s mother but not her father, Henry Connelly. After realizing I had mistakenly input an incorrect birth location — dang auto-correct(!) — I registered several hints for him. After clicking on the new hints I found previously posted bits and pieces of War of 1812 Pension and Bounty Land Warrant application files. These were actually part of an extensive package (41 pages) of what turned out to be a “Eureka!” moment for researching this family line.
Henry and Sarah (Phillips) Connelly married on August 20, 1810 in Clay County, Kentucky, this according to affidavit after affidavit from Sarah Connelly following passage of the War of 1812 Act of February 14, 1871. In part:
The act of February 14, 1871, granted pensions to survivors of the war of 1812, who served not less than sixty days, and to their widows who were married prior to the treaty of peace.7
Sarah began her quest not long after the bill’s passage, engaging the services of attorney William F. Terhume in April.
Henry, born circa 1787, enlisted in the Kentucky militia on November 10, 1814 and was honorably discharged on May 10, 1815. Among the qualifications for a widow’s pension was to prove you and your now-deceased spouse had married and co-habitated prior to the Battle of New Orleans (January 8, 1815).
In 1871 Sarah was eighty years old, and while she would eventually have problems remembering the company Henry had served with and a few other details, she remembered the date of her marriage and the ceremony performed by Reverend Spencer Adams, a Baptist preacher. Clay County was established in December 1806, carved from parts of Madison, Floyd and Knox counties. Whether her marriage in the early days of Clay County contributed to her inability to locate proof is unclear, as Sarah discovered there was no official or public record of the marriage. The marriage had been witnessed by four long-deceased individuals, and Henry had passed away in 1859 (dropsy according to the 1860 Mortality Schedule).
Mr. Terhume began the process after an agreement for payment of services to be rendered ($25.00) was executed on April 5, 1871. By her mark Sarah agreed to those conditions:
Terhume wrote the first letter six days later, addressed to the Commissioner of Pensions:
I enclose a pension claim under the late act of Congress for a widow of a soldier who served in the war of 1812.
I trust you will find it in sufficient form. Permit me to suggest that these claims should receive early attention for the reason that the applicants are quite aged and may not live many of them to enjoy the bounty of the government.8
Terhume also inquired about instructions, and if any existed, requested copies. Ever so promptly (not!) the government sent a circular dated September 16, 1871. In the following order the government required proof:
● A certified copy of a church or other public record.
● An affidavit of the officiating clergyman or magistrate.
● The testimony of two or more eyewitnesses of the ceremony.
● The testimony of two or more witnesses who know the parties to have lived together as husband and wife from the date of their alleged marriage, the witnesses stating the period during which they knew them thus to cohabit.
● Before any of the lower classes of evidence can be accepted, it must be shown by competent testimony that none higher can be obtained.9
As previously noted the first three forms of proof were out of the question — three strikes, Sarah is out?
Included in the first correspondence, executed on the same day as the fee agreement, was an extensive affidavit witnessed and averred to by Sarah’s son-in-law William H. Pugh (my third great grandfather) and his brother George Washington Pugh who had married a woman also surnamed Connelly (she also being a Mary, and Mary Ann’s cousin I believe).
In this affidavit significant information was provided as evidence Henry Connelly had served during the War of 1812. Included with information provided was a proclamation of total allegiance to the United States. Given that the Civil War was still a touchy subject, perhaps Mr. Terhume thought it best to include this statement:
… and further that at no time during the late Rebellion against the authority of the United States did I [Sarah] adhere to the enemies of the United States government neither gave them aid or comfort, and I solemnly swear to support the Constitution of the United States.10
It was also noted that Sarah had already received a land warrant from the government. (Eventually the government would indeed produce its own evidence, a Widow’s Claim for Bounty Land originally authorized on August 31, 1864.)
Her son-in-law and his brother signed similar statements, both pledging fealty to the federal government. Based on the government’s September 1871 response the original statements had been insufficient to move forward with Sarah’s claim. The matter was “suspended” in January 1872 until proof of cohabitation could be provided.
Meanwhile, Terhume had been pursuing, with diligence, means of proof, yet without success. He continued to try and locate someone in Kentucky who would remember, but by September 25, 1872 had received no response. Terhume had found someone willing to keep digging in Kentucky but would likely have no further proof until at least January of 1873.
Sarah was in a bind as far as the matter of marriage proof was concerned. So, what to do when you’re in a pinch? Call on your in-laws, of course!
It’s a bit curious to me the family didn’t think of this before, but on January 13, 1873 an affidavit was signed by two of Sarah’s in-laws. One was Mary Pugh, George’s wife and the other was Frances Pugh, my other fourth great-grandmother. I like to call her “Feisty Frances”.
Frances Townsend Pugh was born in Virginia on June 26, 1794. A few months before her sixteenth birthday she married William Pugh. Their marriage produced twenty-one children, thirteen of whom lived to adulthood. William (born in 1787) died in 1869 and Frances, according to Vernon County, Wisconsin history, was “well preserved and enjoyed good health.”11
At the age of ninety she was still able to take walks and one day came upon a rattlesnake with seven rattles. The snake slithered away but Frances grabbed a stick, “hunted the venomous reptile out from his hiding place and killed it; this took more courage than most of her children and grandchildren would have possessed.”12
Frances was certain Henry and Sarah had been married prior to the Battle of New Orleans because she recalled the birth of one of her own children the same year and day of the month as a child Sarah had delivered. While Mary Pugh (George’s wife) agreed about the marriage, Frances’ statement was the strongest.
Their statements helped settle the matter it appears, because on January 23, 1873 the government issued a “Brief of Claim for a Widow’s Pension” for Sarah Connelly. The brief referenced a report from the Bounty Land Division, along with previous statements by George and William Pugh and Frances and Mary Pugh.
Sarah Phillips Connelly was granted a widow’s pension of eight dollars per month. Sarah died on September 6, 1874 at the age of eighty-three. I found Sarah’s story compelling, as told through the back and forth correspondence, wrangling with the federal government. Obviously, her memory was failing as she struggled to remember certain facts, at one time stating Henry was a Private and Express Rider, and in another statement he was a Lieutenant (big difference!). I also felt her pain. Why is that?
I felt her pain and more than likely her frustration. It made me think of what we as genealogists go through to find the ABSOLUTE proof required to prove so-and-so is our ancestor. In regards to the absolute proof I had been looking for, one of the documents listed William and Sarah’s children — Mary Ann among them. She lived in an age where there was no such thing as “instant” anything in terms of vital information. Sarah, her attorney and her family persisted, however, until they were successful. And, so must we all. As I always like to say — KEEP DIGGING!
Thanks for stopping by! For more stories like this one, consider subscribing to Digging History Magazine. Purchasing a subscription entitles you to subscriber benefits (20% off all services, including custom-designed family history charts) AND a chance to win your very own custom-designed family history chart! Details here (or click the ad below).
Footnotes:
The Civil War in Missouri: A Border State Torn Asunder
The latest issue of Digging History Magazine is out and available by single issue purchase or subscription (three budget-minded options). This issue, the final issue of 2025, features the “Show Me State” of Missouri, its history and how to find the best historical and genealogical records. Among the featured articles is an extensive one, entitled “The ‘Wild West’ of the Civil War: A Border State Torn Asunder”. Here is a short excerpt from the article, created using AI Text to Speech technology.
Other articles featured in this issue include:
- Mining Genealogical Gold: Finding Historical Missouri Records (and the stories behind them)
- Going to War Over Heaven on Earth: Regulating the Mormonites in Missouri
- Essential Tools for the Successful Family History Researcher
- Adventures in Research: What Happened to Stephen Paul?
This issue features over 100 pages of Missouri history, as well as tips for finding the best records (many of them absolutely free!) — no ads, just stories and great tips! Purchase it by clicking here.
To learn more about the digital magazine and the services offered by Digging History, see this special promotional page which provides information about the chance to win a custom-designed family history chart: https://digging-history.com/dhmpromo/
Playing in My New “Sandbox”
I really shouldn’t be playing around with this new technology right at this moment, since I really need to finish the last issue of Digging History Magazine for 2025. I’m getting close though, just a few more pages to write. A few days ago I posted a sample of AI Text to Speech technology, and I’m slowly learning some (but not all) of the ins-and-outs. Today’s post features a short article written for the Arkansas issue (published recently).
It’s a story taken directly from my Hall family heritage (the Rupe line). My grandfather, Hulon Hall, was born in Magazine (Logan County), Arkansas and his mother’s family (the Rupes), lived in neighboring Sebastian County. This is a story from the Civil War, followed by a family tragedy several years later. I hope you enjoy it!
Thanks for stopping by! For more stories like this one, consider subscribing to Digging History Magazine. Purchasing a subscription entitles you to subscriber benefits (20% off all services, including custom-designed family history charts) AND a chance to win your very own custom-designed family history chart! Details here (or click the ad below). Questions? Contact me: [email protected].
Ralph Waldo Emerson Said it Best: Try Something New
Ralph Waldo Emerson said it best: “All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better.”
I’ve been wanting to try this and now seemed like a good time to give it a test run. Using Text to Speech AI technology, here’s a snippet from the soon-to-be-published last issue of 2025 (a bit behind schedule) which features the “Show Me State” of Missouri. The issue will feature articles highlighting the state’s history and how and where to find the best genealogical and historical records. This is an excerpt from an article entitled: “Adventures in Research: What Happened to Stephen Paul?”
I still need to work the bugs out and have a lot to learn I’m sure, but would love to know what readers/listeners think. Leave a comment below or email me at [email protected].
History in the Raw: The Importance of Diaries, Journals and Letters in Genealogical Research
“History in the raw” is how the National Archives refers to “documents – diaries, letters, drawings, and memoirs – created by those who participated in or witnessed the events of the past – tell[ing] us something that even the best-written article or book cannot convey.”10 These historical documents are also among the most valuable resources genealogists can utilize to unravel the mysteries of family history.
Locating these historical records is pure “genealogical gold” in many cases. Letters, diaries, journals or memoirs can often go a long way in proving (or dispelling) the various family “legends and lore” – depending on how lucidly (and honestly) one’s ancestor recorded their own history, that is.
According to Merriam-Webster, the word “diary” derives from the Latin word “dies” for “day”.12 The word “diary” is often used interchangeably with “journal”, “journaling” being a common term used today. Either way, these are instruments a person utilizes to record daily events and one’s thoughts and personal reflections.
Like most everything around us, diaries have a history, a long one. One of the earliest references to making regular entries in a diary goes back to the second century when Marcus Aurelius, philosopher and Roman Emperor (A.D. 161-180) recorded “a series of spiritual exercises filled with wisdom, practical guidance, and profound understanding of human behavior”, according to the Amazon.com description.
The first reference to the term “diary” occurred in the early seventeenth century, around the time settlers began arriving on the shores of what one day would become America. Evidence of our forefathers recording their experiences is found in journals, like the one written by William Bradford, Of Plymouth Plantation (1630-1651).
As far as Mayflower history is concerned, his writings, first published in 1854, are considered to be the most complete first-hand account of the Pilgrims’ early years. If you have Mayflower ancestors, find a copy of Bradford’s journal and learn exactly what life was like. In it you will also find the real story of Thanksgiving.
Diaries and journals were more regularly utilized by men in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to record matters related to business concerns. For men like George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, keeping a record of daily weather and how it affected their agricultural interests was a vital daily routine. Even when Washington was away from his Mount Vernon plantation he still received a weekly summary of weather conditions. His overseer made sure he received those reports in a timely manner so he could judge how the weather was affecting his crops.
In late January of 1772, George Washington was home and witnessed an epic storm, known now as “The Washington and Jefferson Snowstorm of 1772”, with his own eyes. His weather diary entries read like this:
January 27, 1772, “At home by ourselves, with much difficulty rid as far as the mill, the snow being up to the breast of a tall horse everywhere. Snowed all day. 28 – north wind, very cold, snow drifted in high banks three feet deep everywhere. 29 – Sun shone in morning, but by eleven o’clock it clouded up and snowed all night and then turned to rain.”13
How accurate was George Washington’s account? The Maryland Gazette confirms the observations of the future president:
The Winter here has been in general very mild until Sunday Evening last, when it began to snow, which continued without Intermission until Tuesday Night. Yesterday Morning we had again the appearance of fine moderate weather, but in the Evening it began again to snow very fast, which continued all the Night; ‘tis supposed the Depth where it has not drifted, is upwards of Three Feet, and it is with the utmost Difficulty People pass from one House to another. The Quantity of Snow has also chilled the Water to such a Degree, that though the Frost has been severe for these few Days past, yet our Navigation is entirely stopped up by the Ice.14
Perhaps Washington used something referred to as a diary which was more like an annual almanac.
Letts of London, founded in 1796 by John Letts, lays claim to this day for publishing the world’s first known commercial diary. In 1812 Letts combined a journal with a calendar, and voilà there was a convenient way to record one’s thoughts on a daily basis, year after year. In the nineteenth century millions of their diaries were sold. The company touted the “Real Value of a Diary”:
Use your diary, we say, with the utmost familiarity and confidence; conceal nothing from its pages, nor suffer any other eye than your own to scan them. No matter how rudely expressed, or roughly written, or with what material, let nothing escape you that may be of the slightest value hereafter, even though it be but to form a simple link in the daily chain of common transactions. If you receive a trivial commission a diary can be more safely entrusted with it than your unaided memory, and one word is often a sufficient memorandum to render it intelligible.15
While prior to the 1800s diaries and journals were more often utilized by men, as the price of paper decreased and literacy rates rose, women also began to keep diaries and journals. American stationers began publishing their own version of annual diaries. An advertisement for a “picturesque pocket diary” appeared in a Philadelphia newspaper in early 1825, promoted as a suitable New Year’s present.
Around this time private diaries began to be published, one of the first being the diary of John Evelyn (1620-1706) who wrote of life in 17th century England. The book’s preface lays out the importance of Evelyn’s work (two volumes, over 400 pages), and even the less-than-lofty accounts of any of our ancestors who ever sat down and put pen to paper to record their personal thoughts. It also emphasizes the importance of history in genealogical research:
Of all the aids to a complete comprehension of the political, moral, social, or racial changes, evolutions, upheavals and schisms that make what we call History, the Memoirs of each epoch studied are by far the most valuable. Memoirs may be called the windows of the mind. In the privacy of the boudoir or of the study, men and women will inscribe upon the pages of their journals in terse and unaffected language their real thoughts, motives and opinions, unrestrained by the calls of diplomacy or self-interest.16
Even if you don’t have access to an ancestor’s journals or diaries, you may be able to glean historical context from the pages of a contemporary, someone who lived during a particular era or in the same locality as your ancestor. There are a number of ways to access these types of accounts, especially online. To learn more about those resources and read the remainder of the article, purchase the issue here.
Thanks for stopping by! For more stories like this one, consider subscribing to Digging History Magazine. Purchasing a subscription entitles you to subscriber benefits (20% off all services, including custom-designed family history charts) AND a chance to win your very own custom-designed family history chart! Details here (or click the ad below). Questions? Contact me: [email protected].
Footnotes:
Looking Ahead to 2026: Mining Genealogical Gold and Exploring Our American Heritage
2026 is upon us! As I continue working on the last issue of Digging History Magazine for 2025, featuring the “Show Me State” of Missouri (it’s a bit behind schedule, but it’s coming!), I’ve already scheduled the 2026 lineup as I continue a series focusing on American historical and genealogical research.
Each issue is filled with stories about events which shaped the state’s history, as well as tools and tips for finding the best historical and genealogical records. Contrary to what some might assume, many of those records are absolutely FREE — you just have to know where to find them! Each of these state issues features a regular (and extensive) column entitled, “Mining Genealogical Gold: Finding Historical [State] Records (and the stories behind them)”. Not only will you receive valuable tips for finding those records, but I accompany them with a brief state history and stories about those records to hopefully inspire you to “keep digging”.
In 2025 Digging History Magazine featured the following: Rhode Island and Connecticut (Issue 1); New Jersey (Issue 2); Colorado (Issue 3); Oklahoma (Issue 4), Arkansas (Issue 5) and soon-to-be-published Missouri (Issue 6).
In 2026 the following states will be featured (in this order): Nebraska (Issue 1); Iowa (Issue 2); Illinois (Issue 3); Indiana (Issue 4); Ohio (Issue 5); and Pennsylvania (Issue 6). I look forward to researching and writing about these states and uncovering the stories which shaped their history — and finding the records which will assist in uncovering more about our ancestors.
I also plan to continue publishing at least one blog article a week. With all the time I spend researching, writing and editing the magazine (plus working on client research and chart projects), I’m quite busy, but still want to stay in touch. Just so you don’t miss one, be sure and subscribe to the blog (on the right-hand side of the page).
Also I would love to hear from my readers, especially if they have stories of their own to share. You never know — your story might inspire an article . . .stay tuned!
If you love history, or perhaps you would like to begin exploring your family history and don’t know how to begin, consider subscribing to Digging History Magazine. Purchasing a subscription (three budget-friendly options) entitles you to subscriber benefits (20% off all services, including custom-designed family history charts) AND a chance to win your very own custom-designed family history chart! This promotion also includes receiving 10 FREE ISSUES! Details here (or click the ad below). If you need assistance or have questions, please feel free to contact me directly: [email protected].
OK, I give up . . . what is it?
From time to time I run across an unfamiliar term while researching family history. Having a natural curiosity, I feel compelled to learn more about it — and sometimes that turns into quite a research foray all its own. Such was the case of discovering what the term “grass widow” meant. It turned out to be quite the research adventure! From an extensive article published in the September-October 2021 issue of Digging History Magazine, here is an excerpt:
As genealogists we have all come across terms which are unfamiliar for one reason or another. Many times the word or terminology is obsolete, or it might mean something altogether different in the twenty-first century.
Grass Widow
I don’t remember exactly the circumstances of how or when I came across the term “grass widow”. It was certainly a curious term and I was not at all acquainted with what the term meant. A little research was in order, especially after I found references to the term in both newspapers and census records. As is often the case there are stories to be told, but first a definition is in order.
The term “grass widow”, according to Merriam-Webster, was first used circa 1699. In terms of usage, Merriam-Webster provides a two-tiered definition, suggesting the term dates back to the late 17th century. In those days “grass-widow” meant either “a discarded mistress” or “a woman who has had an illegitimate child.” Thereafter, the term may still have implied some sort disreputable behavior, but it also came to mean “a woman whose husband is temporarily away from her” or “a woman divorced or separated from her husband”.17 Any of those definitions could be construed as untoward in one way or another.
However, the Oxford English Dictionary suggests the term dates back to the 16th century. Either way, the earliest definition of “grass widow” carried a certain disreputable stigma. In a Grammarphobia blog article, entitled “Grass widow or grace widow?”, the writers attempt to determine whether there is a distinction between “grace widow” and “grass widow”. The Oxford English Dictionary suggests “grass widow” is a corruption of “grace widow”, although it does not in fact provide a definition for “grace widow”. It is a rather muddled argument either way.
Perhaps the distinction was best defined, as cited in the blog article, by a letter to the editor in an 1859 issue of Ladies Repository, a Methodist magazine:
GRASS-WIDOW – The epithet is probably a corruption of the French word grace – pronounced gras. The expression is thus equivalent to femme veuve de grace, foemina vidua ex gratia, a widow, not in fact but – called so – by grace or favor. Hence, grass-widow would mean a grace widow: one who is made so, not by the death of her husband, but by the kindness of her neighbors, who are placed to regard the desertion of her husband as equivalent to his death.18
Later versions of the Oxford English Dictionary suggested that “words for grass and straw ‘may have been used with opposition to bed.’ So a “grass widow” might provide a roll in the hay, so to speak – an illicit sexual tryst, not necessarily in a bed.”19 However, the blog authors suggested that by the mid-nineteenth century the term “grass widow” had become less derogatory and generally meant a woman’s husband was away. If you’re researching family history and you come across the term, perhaps in a census record, you will need to determine what “away” really meant. Was the husband working elsewhere? Had he run off and left his family to fend for themselves (or ran off with another woman)? Was he perhaps away at war, or had there been a divorce?
I recently came across an indirect reference to “grass widow” while reading The Taking of Jemima Boone, by Matthew Pearl. The book covers the kidnapping of Daniel Boone’s daughter, Jemima, as well as quite a ride through early Kentucky history. According to Pearl, with Daniel away for long stretches, her birth carried a certain question mark:
For the Boone family, Daniel’s long absence evoked many earlier stretches away from home, both planned and unplanned, including one that, according to community lore occurred almost sixteen years before. That time, months had stretched into nearly a year before Daniel reappeared after a “long hunt.” Memories and anecdotes about the timing of that absence plagued the family thereafter. By the time Daniel reappeared – so variations of the story went – Rebecca had conceived a child, gone through a pregnancy and given birth to their fourth child, Jemima. . . .
Rumors posited that the long-absent Daniel could not have been little “Mima’s” father, and that her biological father, to compound matters, was really one of Daniel’s brothers, Squire or Ned. By one account, when told the truth by a remorseful Rebecca, Daniel shrugged and commented that his child “will be a Boone anyhow.” Some remembered Daniel laughing over the years about the rumor, in the process tacitly admitting to it. In some versions, Rebecca felt light embarrassment over the topic – sitting knitting with her “needles fly[ing]” when it came up in conversation with visitors – while in other accounts, Rebecca ribs Daniel that if he’d been home, he could have avoided the problem.20
Was Rebecca Boone a “grass widow”? Perhaps, but Daniel always came home – eventually. Still, in the eighteenth century men could divorce their wives for adultery.
Whether it was the husband divorcing the wife or vice versa, breaking the “bands of matrimony” was stigmatized, and in the 18th century not necessarily an easy thing to obtain. Some have suggested a grass widow was a divorcee and perhaps it was kinder for her community to refer to her as a grass widow. . . .
For more discussion (and anecdotal evidence) on this topic (including the husbands who contracted “gold fever” in the mid-1800s) and to read the rest of this extensive article, purchase the issue here.
Thanks for stopping by! For more stories like this one, consider subscribing to Digging History Magazine. Purchasing a subscription entitles you to subscriber benefits (20% off all services, including custom-designed family history charts) AND a chance to win your very own custom-designed family history chart! Details here (or click the ad below).
Footnotes: